


To the Victor, the Spoils

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Champagne, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Singapore 2008. <i>Nelsinho had felt raw and red and </i>angry<i> and he could not push it all away anymore, not in that moment.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor, the Spoils

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty sexy angst. Started before Crashgate happened (old WIP is oooooooold), so could be read as AU. All the beta hearts for [mackem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mackem).

_I'm not your subordinate._

Nelsinho's own dark words echoed through his mind amidst a quiet flurry of movement in shadow. There was no room for words now; that mouth was much too busy tracking across a freshly exposed chest, up to skate across a collarbone, a bared throat, to crush against familiar lips and swallow a guttural moan. Seizing upon the intention to overwhelm, to dominate this if nothing else.

Stung by whispers through the paddock that he crashed deliberately to gift Fernando the win, the Brazilian had quickly excused himself from the delirious post-race celebrations in favour of his room. His intentions to brood a little, drink a little and sleep a lot had been undone by the fateful knock at his door. _Couldn't have done it without you_ , Fernando had said, all commiserating smiles as he came in, offering an unopened champagne bottle. Whether he had intended to sound condescending or not was irrelevant; whether he had come by to quietly share that bottle with his teammate or drop it off and head back to his festivities was unimportant.

 _Couldn't have done it without you_ , Fernando had said.

Nelsinho had felt raw and red and _angry_ and he could not push it all away anymore, not in that moment. Caramel eyes were deliberately distant, _always deliberately distant_ , and the sudden, violent urge to do what he had wanted to do ever since joining this damn team speared through him.

 _I'm not your subordinate_ , Nelsinho had responded with surprising venom, and the bottle miraculously failed to break as it fell to the thinly carpeted floor, jolted free from Fernando's hand when he was shoved back against the wall. The Spaniard just had time to make a noise of surprise before Nelsinho caught him in a hard kiss. Urgency had rippled through the younger man like fire in his blood, pulling Fernando's shirt open to taste skin, sweat and champagne that was so rarely for him these days. Anyone eavesdropping might have thought there was a scuffle going on; Fernando pushed against Nelsinho, Nelsinho pushed back, pushed harder, hands twisting in the open shirt to hold his teammate still, fists pressing into his chest, _pushed harder_ until the breath was forced from Fernando's lungs in a strained grunt. Nelsinho untangled one hand, pushing it into dark curls of hair and forcing Fernando's head back to suck at the skin of his throat, earning a helpless whine and the sudden relaxation of combative arms. Maybe the Spaniard feared that Nelsinho might bite down on that tender flesh. _Maybe I will_ , Nelsinho thought, the words slicing through his mind and drawing a faint growl from his own throat. He felt Fernando shudder lightly under his touch.

On returning to Fernando's mouth he found less resistance, more eagerness; the other man opened to him willingly, the shock of the assault evidently subsiding as his lips parted, welcoming Nelsinho's tongue to twine with his own. The hand twisted tight into Fernando's shirt relaxed and Nelsinho shifted his footing, thigh deliberately rubbing against the Spaniard's crotch until hips began to rock into the stimulation.

Only then, with the momentum fading and the storm in him beginning to soothe, did Nelsinho have the temerity to break the kiss and look Fernando in the eye. He found himself rather surprised by the faint smirk that confronted him.

"Don't stop there," Fernando murmured, undeniable heat shimmering in his eyes.

Nelsinho blinked, didn't move for a moment or two. This...this wasn't really supposed to go like this. Somewhere between his fury running away with him and this clinch, Fernando was supposed to kick him away, looking startled and angry. That would have been a good enough triumph, he had thought; a sharp little reminder that he wouldn't roll over for Fernando all the time. Now it was all rather skewed, wholly unexpected sparks in those eyes and the absence of anger leaving him unsure. Was this...was Fernando...

It could have been some twisted challenge, it could have been said out of pity, or it just might have been something that Nelsinho wasn't ready to give thought to. Dark eyes narrowed slightly as they tried to read hidden intentions.

 _Don't stop there,_ Fernando had said.

The longer he stood there like an idiot, the less of a triumph this would feel.

The smirk had faded from Fernando's face, and he seemed about to say something when Nelsinho made his decision, crushing his lips to Fernando's once again. He pulled the Spaniard away from the wall, one hand still twisted in his shirt, as if something in the back of his mind told him that maintaining that grip meant maintaining control over the situation, and they moved blindly across the shadowed room.

In his urgency and preoccupation, Nelsinho failed to navigate past the nearby table, catching his hip on the corner and letting out a sharp cry at the strike of pain. As he looked back to see what he had collided with, Fernando murmured "Careful," and guided them both away from the table.

"I could bend you over that table and show you how careful I am," Nelsinho snapped, bristling, and only when Fernando eyed him warily did he regret the harshness of his words. Uncomfortable in his own skin and suddenly aware that this kneejerk aggression could ruin whatever might be coming his way, he freed his hand from the older man's shirt, hesitated momentarily, then slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and eased the shirt from pale shoulders. Fernando allowed it to drop to the floor, and Nelsinho gave his eyes a long moment to roam the newly bared chest before he slid a hand around the back of Fernando's neck, pulling him closer for a firm and less frantic kiss. Again Fernando opened to him, letting him control the rhythm and giving a pleased sounding hum as hands explored him.

Thankfully they both avoided any more personal injury; Nelsinho broke the kiss for long enough to push open the door to his bedroom, eyes flicking back to the neatly made, expansive bed. "Here."

"Good idea," Fernando responded rather dryly, giving a fleeting smirk as he twisted on the spot, backing up to the edge of the bed. He bent his legs and pulled Nelsinho down over him as he reclined, leaving scarcely an inch of space between them. Fernando initiated the kiss that followed, head lifting from the bed to indulge in another taste. Nimble, impatient hands roamed hot skin, the scent of sweat and arousal masking the faded wisps of champagne, and the sound of Fernando's laboured breathing was better than Nelsinho had ever imagined as he moved to kiss and drag gentle teeth over the side of that pale neck.

" _Vamos_..." Fernando whispered, hand moving to begin unbuttoning Nelsinho's shirt, his shock visible when that hand was firmly batted away. His eyes flared with anger, though the flare switched down to a resentful simmer on meeting a steadfast gaze.

"Not yet," Nelsinho said tersely, bringing their lips together again and eliminating anything Fernando had to say with a rough touch, hand sweeping down to grope the Spaniard through his jeans. When Fernando broke away, biting back a groan at the contact, Nelsinho scowled slightly. "Don't _vamos_ me, Fernando, I know what I'm doing." His tone veered between aggressive and plain grumpy in one sentence, forming words that he didn't quite believe himself. If his words were not convincing, however, his actions were – pleasure bloomed deep in his stomach when he felt hardness under his palm.

That sensation, coupled with the renewed spark in Fernando's eyes, spurred him on and in a deliberately antagonistic move, Nelsinho chose that moment to sit up and simply pull the shirt off directly over his head. As the bottom hem of the shirt passed over his face, he just caught the last moment of a scowl crossing Fernando's features, and as Nelsinho cast the shirt aside his teammate openly surveyed the freshly bared skin before him. Beyond this day Nelsinho might tell himself that there was admiration, even envy, in the way those eyes swept slowly over his torso.

A small, unreadable smile pulled at Fernando's lips. "Didn't you used to wax your chest?"

The words _you noticed_ almost did a swan dive from Nelsinho's tongue before he could swallow them down. Embarrassed that he might've said such a thing aloud, he lifted his chin and looked down in a slightly sullen manner. "So?"

Fernando shrugged lightly, the corners of his mouth turning down as he did so in that habitual way of his, and lifted his arm from its spread position across the bed to lay his palm against Nelsinho's stomach, fingers splaying in dark hair. Both men watched the movement, oddly compelled. Nelsinho's anticipation over this had been such that when Fernando's hand finally made intimate contact with his skin, palm smoothing over his stomach and waist, fingers tracing muscles, he actually felt a little light-headed at the touch.

Sliding a hand down Fernando's raised arm and bringing it close to his face as he arched his body downwards, Nelsinho turned his head to drag his teeth along the soft skin, the word _vulnerable_ slipping through his mind. Dark eyes simmering, he pushed that arm back, pressing it into the mattress, and claimed another assertive kiss. Fernando's free hand tangled in his hair; he did not swat it away.

He afforded himself a smirk when Fernando moaned into his mouth, reacting to the hand once again palming his crotch. Nelsinho traced fingertips along the seam between Fernando's thighs and groped hard until the man beneath him grunted, his hips giving a jerk. He prised Fernando's belt open, breaking the kiss only when he failed to fumble the jeans open as well. Nelsinho's eyes flicked down at the feeling of hands at his own trousers; Fernando was following his lead with a small smirk of his own. Nelsinho didn't tell him to stop, leaving their tangled arms to race to be the first inside the other's pants.

Adrenalin coursed through Nelsinho, but it did little to relieve him of the tension gripping his stomach. He did his damnedest to hold Fernando's gaze, to keep a vice grip on his attention, hoping not to see anything dawning in those expressive eyes – remembering where he was, that this was never supposed to happen, that he shouldn't let it go any further. That this – that Nelsinho – was a mistake. If Fernando left now, the Brazilian wasn't sure how he would handle it in the state he was in. _Badly_ was the first word that sprang to mind, and he shoved it away. He wanted nothing but acceptance, acquiescence from Fernando, and if that meant glaring Fernando through the mattress, then so be it.

Fernando stilled when Nelsinho grasped his cock, and a short laugh escaped the Brazilian at the unconcealed look of pleasure that flooded Fernando's face, his eyes flickering shut. Goal reached, Nelsinho withdrew his hand briefly to spit into his palm, circling the head of Fernando's cock with his thumb and smearing wetness down its length. A fiery thrill rippled through him in the urge to take Fernando into his mouth, to swallow around his cock, _really_ blow his mind. The urge was spirited away, however, when Fernando's agile fingers returned to the task of his half-open trousers. Nelsinho did his best to bite back his cry as he bucked into Fernando's hand; having been so focused on the man beneath him, he was suddenly very aware of the heat of his own skin and the aching hardness of his own cock. This was a new race.

He worked fast, his hand pumping, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm. Fernando felt good under his touch, all warm body, taut muscles and responsive movements. He wondered, shuddering with pleasure at the very thought, what Fernando felt like to fuck. Had he ever been fucked? Would he be tight, would he whimper and beg for slower, for more gentle? Would he be loud and wanton, would he want to be fucked hard? Would he actually lose control?

"Do you want to suck me?"

Brought hurtling out of his fantasies and blindsided by Fernando's breathless, mischievous enquiry, Nelsinho's hand fell out of rhythm, his hips thrusting against Fernando's hand, a guttural moan spilling from his open mouth before he could stop it; Fernando responded with a wicked grin and a light laugh, either at his own little victory or Nelsinho's reaction. Nelsinho's counterattack came as swiftly as he could muster it, bringing his lips down onto Fernando's for a ravenous kiss.

"I want to-- _ah_ \--" Nelsinho stopped mid-response, words lost amidst a whine as Fernando massaged his balls with his other hand. He sucked in a breath, his expression unguarded. "I want more than that."

Following Fernando's example, he put his other hand to good use; clawing at denim until Fernando lifted his hips to ease his jeans down a little further, then slipping between Fernando's legs to rub teasing fingertips over his hole. Fernando stiffened, eyes going wide for half a moment; Nelsinho's stomach swooped, wondering if it was the moment he'd finally be kicked away, but it wasn't. The ring of muscle twitched under his touch, and the feel of precome leaking from Fernando's cock told Nelsinho he was safe.

Fernando's knees spread wider, straining against the confines of his half-off jeans, his hips moving with the dual attention of Nelsinho's hands. He watched Nelsinho through half-lidded, dilated eyes before they slid shut and his hands dropped away in surrender, more and more soft moans falling from his parted lips. Though Fernando would not see it, Nelsinho smiled a smile that showed his teeth, and gave a breathless laugh as Fernando came.

The shuddering cry had barely finished ringing gloriously through Nelsinho's ears when Fernando's hands were back on him, jerking him off fast and rough. The battle won, Nelsinho let everything else fade out, fumbling and gripping at Fernando's spread thighs, arching into the intense stimulation. He let his head drop back and welcomed the feel of his orgasm surging up into him, triumph and pleasure singing through his veins.

When the sound of laboured breathing returning to normal filled Nelsinho's ears, he brought his gaze back down to Fernando. His eyes were closed, long, dark eyelashes flickering occasionally against his cheeks, and his hands were at Nelsinho's thighs, fingertips twitching against the fabric of his shorts. Nelsinho's attention was held - _seized_ \- by the sight of come spattered across Fernando's stomach, the shine of white flecks following the contours of muscle and bone on sweat slicked, pale skin. He stared through dazed eyes and licked his lips unconsciously.

Fernando's hand moved to his chest, lifting again to see a smear of come on his little finger. Nelsinho caught hold of that hand and bent to take the finger into his mouth, dragging his tongue along the underside before closing his lips around it and sucking it clean with obscene promise. He bent to meet Fernando's mouth, murmuring into the kiss. "Have you tasted anyone in this way before?"

"Not _exactly_ in this way."

A smile eased its way onto Nelsinho's face, a quiet laugh escaping with it. The anger that had erupted from within him was almost a distant memory, dulled by pleasure, which was itself just beginning to wane. What did he have left within him? Not much. Weariness tugged at his limbs. Fernando lay comfortably beneath him, thighs pressed against his, looking sated and peaceful.

He kissed Fernando again, by far the most tender contact between the two of them since that champagne bottle had been sent tumbling to the floor, feeling a twinge in his chest when a gentle hand threaded through his hair.

Words crowded his thoughts, a hundred things to be said catching in his throat. Meaningless things, confusing things, things that tore at him, things he'd done his best to ignore for months upon months, however loudly they had shouted within him. Things he had held in his heart for the right time to say.

Warm Spanish skin and the heavy musk of sex made Nelsinho linger once the kiss was broken, gaze hopeful, almost desperate, the twinge in his chest having blossomed into a familiar ache. He opened his mouth, but couldn't make himself speak. He wanted to brush the stray curls of hair away from Fernando's face, but couldn't make himself move. His breathing fell into rhythm with Fernando's as he looked down at the indolent pleasure swimming in hazy caramel eyes.

Indolent pleasure and nothing more.

Nelsinho stilled, feeling his gut twist, then sat up slowly, that brief smile having fading away to nothing. He swallowed against an aching throat, licked his lips and eased himself off the man beneath him, unable to look him in the eye. He felt leaden. Sick.

After an awkward pause in which Fernando watched Nelsinho and Nelsinho watched the bedspace between them, Fernando moved. Out of the corner of his eye, Nelsinho watched him as he pulled his jeans back up to his hips; in the position he was in, recumbent on the bed, it should have looked awkward. Something about the way he did it, however, perhaps in the roll of his hips or the arch of his back, set off a weak spurt of desire in Nelsinho. He watched the Spaniard's fingers as they adjusted himself back into his boxers and zip and button his fly, all until he tore his eyes away in mild disgust at himself.

He listened to the rustle of fabric against fabric, felt the bed dip and move with Fernando. The words that had clustered and cried out in his mind had disappeared, their heavy weight blown away like so much dust. He let the sounds of Fernando's movements fill the space left behind, hating every second of silence.

When Fernando sat up at the edge of the bed having evidently wiped his stomach clean on something, he looked down at his chest, noticing red marks lingering there from the earlier press of Nelsinho's knuckles. He brushed his fingertips over the two lines of darkened skin, musing possibly to himself, "They will be strange bruises."

Nelsinho sat still and silent on the bed, eyes straying from nothing in particular to Fernando as he retrieved his shirt and slipped it on. When his hands reached the spot where the top button should have been, he fiddled blindly at the thread that remained, pulled the shirt out from his chest to squint down at the damage and gave a quiet chuckle.

To Nelsinho, it felt like an insult. _Look what the silly boy did._ He rubbed the back of his neck, giving his own laugh, humourless and dark and sliding out under his breath for no-one but himself to hear.

"This," Fernando murmured, eyes falling to the bed before drawing up Nelsinho's body once again. "Happens once." _Silly boy, you just get a taste._

Nelsinho cleared his throat, looking up at Fernando through his fringe. "I figured that out for myself, thank you," he responded, voice traced with adequate bitterness. Fernando's eyes lingered on him until Nelsinho's gaze slid away in the long silence that followed.

"You expected more?"

Again Fernando's words compelled Nelsinho to look at him, sharply this time. The Brazilian's mouth formed an o shape, the word _what_ preparing to pass his lips. _What did you say? What do you mean? What the hell kind of question is that?_ No such questions came forth, though; the expectant look on Fernando's face made it clear that he thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, causing Nelsinho to snort. "'Expect' isn't really the word."

He refused to elaborate, even in his head. The corner of Fernando's mouth twitched.

"Teammates..." He trailed off, eyes clouding, appearing to lose himself in thought. He gave a small sigh before re-focussing on the Brazilian. "It becomes very complicated."

"More complicated than we already are?" Nelsinho countered.

Fernando's eyebrows rose slightly as he gave a very short, very firm answer. "Yes."

Before Nelsinho could press Fernando any further, the Spaniard's attention turned to something else as he slipped out of the room. He returned a moment later with the hitherto forgotten bottle of champagne. Nelsinho watched him curiously as he untwisted the wire and popped the cork, drawing a finger up its gently curved neck to scoop up the escaping dribble of bubbles. He sucked his finger clean and returned to Nelsinho, holding the bottle out towards the Brazilian.

Nelsinho eyed the bottle, briefly looking up at his teammate, a slight frown crossing his face. He sounded halfway between bemused and derisory when he spoke. "I'm not really thirsty right now."

Fernando snuffed a laugh. "You don't drink champagne for the thirst. You drink it for the victory."

"The..." Nelsinho trailed off, staring up at his teammate, not fully echoing Fernando's last words as his stomach dropped through his feet.

_Silly boy._

After a moment, he took the bottle in numb fingers, but did not drink from it. Fernando smiled.

He left the hotel room mere moments later.

 _Rejection_ was the word that tainted Nelsinho's mind, the last threads of pleasure trailing through his body into nothingness, his room descending into total silence. He still felt sick.

As he thought back to his earlier plan of brooding a little, drinking a little and sleeping a lot, and how he might revert back to that plan right about now, he quietly chastised himself for feeling rejected - spurned, even.

After all - he took a small, slow swig of champagne, the bubbles prickling down his throat - he had _won_ , hadn't he?


End file.
